


A Series of Nonsensical Events

by CoffeeCurse



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (1) Casino, (1) Night in Paris, (Many) Bottles of White Wine, Ambiguous Letters, Attempt at Humor, Auror Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy is Clueless About Muggle Things, Gambling, Getting Together, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Humor, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Many Goodbyes and One New Beginning, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:53:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24534139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoffeeCurse/pseuds/CoffeeCurse
Summary: Malfoy is up to something. When Harry and the other Aurors are called into a Gringotts break-in and find him the culprit, Harry’s at a total loss.But things only get weirder from then on.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 28
Kudos: 104
Collections: HD Wireless 2020





	A Series of Nonsensical Events

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Quicksilvermaid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quicksilvermaid/gifts).



> Thank you for choosing the song My Gospel by Charlie Puth as your prompt. The lyrics are a wild ride and I hope I could do them justice. I had a lot of fun writing this story and I hope you enjoy it too.  
> My heartfelt thanks go to L who was an incredible beta.

Harry would later say that it was on September 16th, 1998 that Draco Malfoy lost his mind.

That day, Harry awoke from drooling on the Carrow case files when a shrill alarm sounded through the Auror Department. Harry had again stayed the night to brood over witness accounts, ignoring his body's craving for a good night's sleep in comfort.

"Get up, Potter," Savage yelled into the trainee office. "You’ve got ten seconds."

Harry blinked the sleep out of his eyes and cast a quick _Tempus_. Apparently, it was 7:23 am. He scrambled to his feet, checked that his shoes were indeed on his feet and his glasses on his nose, before running after Savage, clutching his wand tightly.

"What is it?" he asked, his voice cracking. Savage shushed him, and Harry turned his eyes to Roberts who stood before the elevator, pressing the button without pause.

"Break-in at Gringotts, Potter," Williamson mumbled next to him. "We've got an alarm for every big institution. When it sounds scraping like that - it's Gringotts alerting us."

Savage rolled his eyes next to her.

"The last time we heard it, it was _you_ breaking in," he said with a sneer. "We won't forget it that easily."

Harry didn't even bother acknowledging him. Savage hated him for whatever reason, and just never stopped being nasty.

Finally, the elevator arrived. After a silent descent Roberts led the way towards the Atrium fireplaces, and one after the other, they called "Gringotts Bank" into the green fire.

They arrived to chaos.

Goblins were running around, screaming at each other in Gobbledegook. A loud alarm was ringing in the background. Somehow the fire-detection spells had been set off, and it was raining onto the black tiles of the floor. The few customers still inside had rain-repelling charms up and were cowering in a corner, glancing around in panic.

"Is it Death Eaters?" Harry asked. He raised his wand higher – ready to cast at any second. They'd rounded up most remaining members of the Inner Circle in the last months, and only the Carrows were still missing. But you never knew for sure.

"You need to be quite crazy, to break into fucking Gringotts when all of Britain is searching for you," Savage sneered. "Oh, wait. That's what you did."

Harry rolled his eyes and pushed passed him, knocking his shoulder. Savage could just fucking come out and say what his goddamn problem was. Otherwise, Harry would not waste any more breath on him.

If it was this 'Saviour' nonsense, then he could just queue behind Harry and all his friends who were so done with the wizarding world acting like a mob.

"Which vault?" Roberts asked a goblin with the name sign _Ragnok_ who still stood behind his counter. Ragnok stared at Harry with narrowed eyes, showing just a little bit of teeth. It was as if _he_ was here to rob the bank, not investigate whatever had happened here..

"It's 445, the Malfoy family vault," Ragnok said.

Harry frowned. "Isn't that down with the Lestrange vault?" he asked. "I thought you only let people down there when they can identify themselves."

"Thank you for your trust in this institution." Ragnok sneered. "The alarm didn't go off because there was a break-in. The customer started a fire – in his vault."

"Could you just tell us what's going on?" Roberts asked with a sigh. "The people are frightened. We have sent a call to most Aurors still at home. Do I need to pull everything from your nose? There was a war. People are going to overreact."

Ragnok twisted his large ears in annoyance and then pulled out a scroll and shoved it into Roberts's face.

"Draco Malfoy signed in for visiting first his new personal vault, and then the family vault at exactly 7:00 am."

Harry's nose twitched.

"Malfoy Jr was banned from accessing his family vault at his trial," Roberts said. Below the counter, he fisted his hands. "That's what the Wizengamot ordered. How come you just let him walk in?"

"Gringok," Ragnok called loudly and another goblin, who seemed to be the head of the bank, made his way over. He walked at a comfortable pace like he had all the time in the world.

"These Aurors were alerted by the wards," Ragnok said to him. "They wish to know why we let Draco Malfoy into his family vault."

Gringok pushed his glasses onto his nose and then jumped up to stand on the podium behind the counter just like Ragnok did. Now able to look down on their group from a higher viewpoint.

"We might have miscalculated," he said slowly. "We thought he would walk in his father's shoes and invest. But he didn't – "

"The Ministry – " Roberts said.

"The Ministry can stay out of _our_ affairs," Gringok said. "We do business with whoever earns us money. The Malfoy vault belongs to the Malfoys. Unless the Ministry itself takes steps to prevent Draco Malfoy from accessing his vault – Gringotts surely will continue doing business with him."

Roberts exhaled loudly.

"Will you just take us to the bloody vault," he said. "He surely didn't start a fire out of the goodness of his heart."

Gringok stared at him in silence for many moments, then waved them on.

Harry sat on the edge of his seat all the way down. At odd moments he had flashbacks from their breakout on the dragon. He avoided coming to Gringotts, just like Ron. 

Only Hermione continued to bear the insults and impoliteness when returning over and over again. She wanted to determine where their world discriminated against all the other species. It was part of a big revolution which only existed in her brain at the moment.

"Vault 445," Ragnok called, and their little group got off the cart. The entire lower region of Gringotts was buried in dense swathes of smoke. Harry cast a bubble-head charm on himself and then followed behind his colleagues.

" _Ventus_ ," Roberts said and slowly the wind coming from his wand created a cleared tunnel. Savage and Williamson crouched low, waiting for the attack, while Harry conjured up a shield over their group. Theoretically, they were only expecting Malfoy, but the goblins had lied to him before. 

They were all drenched in water by now. Down here it was raining cats and dogs, but the fire didn't seem extinguished yet.

"Draco Malfoy," Roberts yelled. "This is the Auror Corps. Roll your wand over to us. Then come closer so we can see you."

They crept forwards until they reached the vault door, which was nearly shut. When Roberts pulled it open, another cloud of smoke surrounded them. There was a flash of light, and then it was dark in the vault. Someone breathed heavily at the other end of the room.

"Mr Malfoy?"

"One second." Someone coughed. Then there was more heavy breathing and wood clattered to the floor. The wand?

"Malfoy?" Harry asked. A heavy thud – the falling of a body – then silence.

Harry pushed past Roberts, who only gave him a warning glance, and snuck closer. Quietly – but hurried. Soon he reached Malfoy, who lay sprawled out among a couple of burned cups. Harry cast a basic health scan.

It returned nothing but the usual symptoms of someone who had fainted.

" _Hominum Revelio_ ," Harry cast but nobody other than Malfoy and his team were down here. Quickly, Harry got to his knees and checked Malfoy's pulse. Although he knew a few healing spells now, some habits just couldn't be shed.

The others cleaned the air in the vault, and in time they could see what damage had been done.

The Malfoy vault was gigantic. Filled with antiques, paintings, and mountains of gold—someof which was now black.

"What did he use?" Williamson asked. "This has to be _Fiendfyre_. Regular fire doesn't burn that fast or hot. He was down here for what – fifteen minutes max?"

Harry looked down into Malfoy's chalk-white face. His forehead showed little beads of sweat. _Why would Malfoy–?_ This didn't make any sense.

Roberts cancelled the call to the other Aurors and Harry levitated Malfoy’s body behind himself back to the cart. He didn't wake up all the way to St. Mungos.

* * *

"You cannot be serious!"

Harry stood at attention before Roberts two days later. The Head Auror was looking through some parchment. Many quills and stacks of documents cluttered up the surface of his desk.

"There is nothing I can do, Potter," Roberts said again. "He broke his parole, yes. But accessing his vault is hardly a worse crime than what he's already been pardoned for. Because of you, by the way." He glanced up briefly. "Gringotts doesn't want to press charges. He burned his own property, after all."

Harry exhaled. It was so typical that Malfoy would just get away with this, with nothing other than a slap on the wrist.

"But doesn't anyone want to know why he's acting so weird? And he used _Fiendfyre._ "

Roberts just shook his head and cracked a smile.

"Give it up, Potter and focus on tracking the Carrows. They murder a human being for every day we don't catch them. Just leave Malfoy. Someone must have hit him on the head too hard, that's all."

* * *

Teddy giggled when Harry arrived for his Sunday visit at Tonks Cottage. It always welcomed him with a homey atmosphere, the small space crammed with many different styles of furniture, clothes, and pictures of the Tonks family.

He, however, found not only Andromeda and his godson in the living room, but Narcissa Malfoy as well.

"There you are," Andromeda said and smiled at him. "I almost thought you weren't coming today. We're having soufflé. It's still in the oven. You'll find some jeans in Dora's room."

Tonks’ childhood room was part of the ritual they'd developed over the last few weeks.

Harry practically lived in his red Auror uniform, and Andromeda liked to remind him to take it off every once in a while by buying him clothes on her shopping trips. They generally were Muggle and very stylish. She always put them in Tonks' room because Andromeda wanted to have someone breathing life into it, move stuff around, make it seem less – dead.

"Aren't you handsome," Andromeda said as he came back downstairs. Somehow she always managed to have the clothes fit perfectly, and Harry felt himself blush. He didn't hear that often – at least this quietly and genuine.

The table was set, the two women opposite each other. Teddy was already sucking on a bottle in his baby chair. Harry sat down with an uncomfortable smile. He hadn't seen Mrs Malfoy since her trial. Before she'd been impossibly thin, now she looked healthier.

There was some awkward silence, then Mrs Malfoy hemmed quietly.

"It's lovely to meet you again, Mr Potter." Her voice was very quiet. "I want to thank you again for your help during the trial." Harry only nodded.

He'd repaid his debts. Seeing Lucius sent off to Azkaban had been enough to satisfy his personal grudge. Harry trusted that Kingsley and the new Wizengamot passed fair judgement.

"Has Malfoy – your son – recuperated since his little escapade last week?"

"Whatever do you mean, Mr Potter?" she asked. Andromeda helped Teddy burp and then pulled something delicious-smelling from the oven.

Harry met Mrs Malfoy's widened eyes. Malfoy had been out cold for an entire day at St. Mungos before signing himself out. Had he not told her? Well, Harry wasn't kind enough to keep this secret for him.

"We were alerted last week when your son cast _Fiendfyre_ inside the Malfoy family vault. He fainted, either because he panicked or because of the smoke fumes." Mrs Malfoy raised her hand to her mouth. She blinked hard as if to remember something.

"He's been in a – dark mood ever since his father was sent off to prison. Before too." She grimaced slightly and cast a sidewards glance at Andromeda, who was busying herself with the cutlery. "I was happy that he was getting better recently." She glanced down at her plate. "I thought he was on the upward path again. He's only just decided to give away the Manor –"

"The Manor?"

"Harry avoids reading the Prophet, Cissy." Andromeda put Teddy down onto his play-blanket. "Draco has donated – well, more like lent – the Malfoy family estate to the Ministry, which will turn it into a museum. Some of the rooms will be changed to accommodate wizards and witches of special needs. Orphans too, till they are adopted."

Harry stared at her, uncomprehending. Family manors, just as their vaults, were protected by powerful family wards. They couldn't be confiscated. The Ministry could only block access. Malfoy didn't need to give up his house.

"Where will you live then, Mrs Malfoy?" Harry asked.

"Oh, I've decided to buy a little house in the neighbourhood. Happily, my sister has allowed me back into her life, even with my many faults. And please, do call me Narcissa."

Harry couldn't connect this woman with the one he remembered. Someone who'd been so utterly emotionless during their hostage-taking at Malfoy Manor. Someone seemingly unaffected by tortured screams. This was the woman he'd briefly met when she'd asked about her son before saving his life.

"Narcissa," he nodded. "Please call me Harry then." Her eyes crinkled slightly at the sides.

Later, when Narcissa had left, Harry and Andromeda sat in the living room, drinking tea. Teddy had been put to sleep in his little crib located in Andromeda's bedroom. Harry would head back to work soon. Although to Andromeda, he would say he was going 'home'.

"Why did you forgive her?" he asked.

"Cissy? I'm far from forgiveness, Harry." Andromeda sipped on her tea as she turned another page in her book. Her atmosphere was always one of complete calm.

"Cissy was always the youngest of us. The most reserved. The one our parents doted on the most. She has strength when she is protecting people other than herself. I don't know how to explain this... She's nobody who would rebel against her husband openly. She's too traditional for that. Her fault was always a missing backbone. She isn't a bad person." Andromeda smiled at him sadly.

"She was writing letters to me, you know? Always – although she asked me not to answer any of them. Or tell anybody. For years and years. She sent me money too, when Ted and I needed it. She would never tell me any useful information, it was mostly about her husband's drinking. Or Draco's arrogance and strange puberty phases. Or about her fear of Voldemort. Everything she couldn't tell anyone else."

She looked down at her book, but her eyes were unseeing.

"I love my sister, Harry. And I'm terribly lonely now. And while I can freely hate Bellatrix more than any other person – Narcissa, I cannot. She's unable to cast a _Crucio_ or the Killing Curse. I know all her deepest and darkest thoughts. I knew when she struggled, and when she despised herself."

She sighed. "I need her now. And she is willing to be here with me. You're still young, Harry, but sometimes love and hate are incredibly close. Holding onto grudges will help nobody. Me least of all."

* * *

Harry thought about that conversation a lot over the next two weeks as he sat at his desk, picking apart each case he was assigned.

They found the Carrows at the beginning of October. Williamson was killed, as was Alecto Carrow. Her brother was sitting in a holding cell in Azkaban. Harry wasn't the only Auror who wanted to make sure that he got the worst possible sentence.

And it was hard. Another funeral. Another cycle of grief ahead, just after the last few were done.

But Harry still kept coming into work every day. He sat there until late at night, and kept scribbling, kept tracking. Kept sleeping in his transfigured office chair. But it was like the light outside got a little dimmer every day.

It was in that mood that he saw Malfoy again.

Harry was just leaving on Friday evening to head to Andromeda's to babysit. The sisters wanted to go see a musical together.

"I told you already, Mr Malfoy. There is nothing we can do about your vault." Harry looked up. He had only just walked by the Accounting Department. It wasn't on his floor, but Harry visited all levels while making his way up to the Atrium.

He intensely disliked being stuck in the elevator with all those other people wanting to talk to him. Thank Merlin for stairs.

"But whyever not?" Malfoy said. His voice was still as snotty as Harry remembered. "It's not for personal use. There is just quite the magical infestation in the cellars at the Manor. If you don't invest properly in cleaning that, it will fall apart under your nose. Think of the people who want to live there."

"I do understand that all you want to do is help. But all transactions from that vault are blocked. The only way to access it would be by contacting the goblins. As there are wards now set up to prevent you from entering, I _cannot_ help you." Malfoy sighed profoundly and then startled as he saw Harry standing only a few feet from them.

The witch behind the counter, an old lady with fake red hair, blushed and then smiled in the whimsical way most strangers did.

"Is everything alright?" Harry asked uncertainly. He had stopped after all – just walking away would be weird.

"Whatever," Malfoy said and turned. He paused, looked back at Harry as if he were going to say something more, but then just stalked away. He still wore those elegant form-fitting clothes Harry remembered from school. They must have cost more than Harry's entire wardrobe put together. It triggered pettiness Harry didn't know he was capable of.

" _Appare Vestigium_ ", Harry mumbled under his breath.

The accounting woman widened her eyes, looking from Harry to Malfoy and back. Harry smiled at her reassuringly and pressed his index finger to his lips. Finally, she closed her mouth with a cluck and ducked her head to go back to her work.

Malfoy had now made his way into the elevator. He met Harry's eyes one last time defiantly. Then he disappeared from view.

* * *

"So how do you do this, mate?" Ron asked him. He'd come over so they could handle this _babysitting_ together. Mostly Harry just hoped that Ron was better at changing diapers and making baby milk than he was.

"I don't know," Harry mumbled as he stared down at London. His tracking map worked about the same as the Marauders Map did. Every person that Harry had tacked with _Appare Vestigium_ showed up on it.

"What are you even doing there?" Ron asked. "Andromeda told you a gazillion times that you're not allowed to bring your work home. It's not healthy."

"This isn't work exactly -" Harry followed Malfoy's dot as it moved from Diagon Alley into Muggle London.

"Is that Malfoy?" Harry startled when he felt Ron's breath tickling his neck.

"No," he said and quickly folded the map in half. Ron stood behind him, Teddy in his arms who was sucking aggressively on his dummy.

"It totally is, mate. What did he do? Are they investigating him because of the Gringotts thing, now?" Harry blinked.

"Yeah," he said lamely. Otherwise, Ron would think he was stalking Malfoy again. _Which he never had!_

"So," Harry pushed the map into his backpack, "you heard anything from Hermione and Ginny?" Ron pushed Teddy into Harry's arms, where his hair changed from red to black and his skin darkened slightly. With both hands and gritted teeth, Ron managed to open the baby bottle and put some milk powder inside. Harry meanwhile tried very hard to put socks on Teddy's feet. As it turned out – that was harder than it looked.

"I know 'Mione sends you the same long status reports she sends me, Harry. If you're asking about Ginny in particular, I think she's fine. They're both stressed because of NEWTs, and it's only October."

Ron knew Harry wasn't asking that.

"I don't know what to tell you, mate. She's still unhappy." Ron sighed and handed the finished bottle over to Teddy, who had decided in the last two seconds that he didn't like drinking milk after all.

Harry looked down, twirling his thumbs.

"Do you regret breaking up with her?" Ron asked plainly. Harry met his eyes, then shook his head. Ron made faces at Teddy, and when he giggled pushed the bottle into his mouth.

"Well, then that's that. You made your choice. You can’t do the 'getting over it' for her. Mate, I cannot say I understand you. I'm so glad I have Hermione and don't need to go through this shit alone right now. But we all are in our own special headspace. And I just want all of us to come out intact. 'Mione told me often enough, I shouldn't get involved with the two of you. And Gin is tough. You hurt her, though."

Harry grimaced. He was thankful Ron was talking to him. When he'd seen Ginny's betrayed face, he'd thought he'd ripped his relationship with all the Weasleys to shreds.

But he couldn't do it anymore. She'd wanted him to be there for her when all he wanted was to lose himself. Stick his head deep into the sand, and never pull it back out. The chasm between the happy days of snogging around the castle, making sure Ron didn't see them, were over. And it had shown in their kisses.

What remained was grief and an insurmountable distance. And so much sadness.

He just didn't want to feel that any more. Without her, it was easier somehow.

* * *

Ron left when Andromeda returned close to midnight. He was living with George because they'd all been a bit concerned about what would happen after Fred's funeral. Harry could have lived there too. But in the early days, May and June, he'd felt at home within the dim light of Grimmauld.

Now he tried to avoid it as much as possible.

"You can stay over," Andromeda said. Harry looked at his feet.

"I kinda still want to meet up with someone tonight," he lied. When he glanced up, Andromeda just smiled at him. Her eyes said that she didn't believe him. 

Harry waved goodbye awkwardly and fled outside. It was nasty out, and the rain was running down the cobblestone street in rivers. Harry ducked under the next roof and pulled out the map. He'd wanted to check what the hell Malfoy was doing in Muggle London all these hours, but Ron had never left the room for a bloody second.

_Curzon Street_ , it said next to Malfoy's dot. Still Muggle London. _Aspinall's._ Harry furrowed his brow. What was Malfoy doing there?

Harry stared at the luminescent 00:11 am of his _Tempus_ for a long time until it swam before his vision. Then he looked back down at the map.

Fuck it, this was better than working.

He disapparated and reappeared on Curzon Street. It was located in Mayfair, and Harry looked around the reddish city buildings, trying to understand what had motivated Malfoy to come here. Being in London was always a special experience for Harry. City life was different somehow.

Harry quickly rechecked that Malfoy was indeed still inside Aspidell's, a casino, and made for the door.

"Membership card, please," a fancy butler who wore a red tux and a black stovepipe hat, asked. Harry confunded him, feeling only slightly guilty. Of course this was a private casino. This was Malfoy.

After Harry was inside, he transfigured his clothes into the same outfit the doorman had worn and pushed forward. It was like he had used a time-turner to go back to the 19th century. The entire space screamed: old, aristocratic rich.

Champagne was passed around on trays. Men and women were sitting around gaming tables in suits and fancy dresses. A group of women was dancing on the stage singing jazz music.

Malfoy was easy to spot at a table at the far end of the room, his platinum hair shining even in the dim light. Harry had no idea how to play card games except for Exploding Snap, but Malfoy sat there in a relaxed posture as if gambling was all he did.

Harry confunded another server and took his tray to get closer.

Malfoy had a full glass with white wine next to his two upturned cards. Many colourful chips were stacked before him on the table. Harry mostly ignored all the other suit-wearers on his way. They barely noticed him at all. It was somewhat refreshing, after the constant attention in the wizarding world, to be simply ignored because he wasn't important enough.

There was noise at the table ahead, and Harry saw Malfoy grin and pull all the chips at the centre of the table over to him.

"How can you possibly always have such good cards?" an old man asked. "I want a change in dealer. I feel this game is rigged!"

"Not everyone can have luck stuck to their fingers like I do!" Malfoy's drawl answered. A few syllables were slurred – he must be a few glasses in.

Harry narrowed his eyes. Malfoy nonchalantly sorted his chips while the dealer changed. He sipped smugly on his wine between every new tower he built.

"And if it isn't Harry Potter. Twice in one day even – how lucky!" Harry startled. He met Malfoy's eyes, who had his chin resting on his fist, merely looking at him. Harry should have thought this entire surveillance operation through more.

The new dealer came, and Harry had to step back. Malfoy winked at him and returned to his game. Harry only watched from a distance as Malfoy won round after round until finally more and more of his opponents gave up and disappeared from the table.

"Come," Malfoy said to Harry as he made to leave later, having exchanged his chips for money.

"What do you mean, come?"

"Well, Potter. You are obviously here for me, so what's the point in staying when I'm leaving?"

There was something odd about Malfoy's mood. It was like he was humouring Harry. He seemed almost drunk on endorphins, humming Celestina Warbeck while walking out the front door.

_Felix Felicis_ , Harry thought. He knew this mood. It made sense with the winning streak. He gritted his teeth together and followed, changing his clothes back to the plain jeans and t-shirt he'd had on before.

Only now he took in Malfoy's clothes. He wore a tux and fly which both gave him that rich Muggle atmosphere. It also confused Harry. For one thing, because he didn't remember Malfoy ever wearing Muggle clothes, and well – he looked rather nice, his hair not slicked back for once.

"Oh, it's already here," Malfoy said, and Harry looked up to a long black limousine standing on the street, gleaming in the moonlight. "Come on, let's get in. It's my first time in one of these Muggle concoctions."

The chauffeur nodded to Malfoy and opened the door to the back. He looked at them both neutrally. Harry did not want to know what he was thinking. Of himself in particular.

With a last sigh, Harry got into the back. If Malfoy was dosed with Felix, this would be weird for the foreseeable future. Nothing could be done about that.

They were alone in the roomy interior, the driver closed off from their conversation by a blackened window.

"You cheated," Harry said when the car started up. Malfoy just cracked a smile.

"Nope, I was just fortunate," he said, popping the p. The limousine was rolling. Harry had not heard anyone give the driver directions, so maybe they were just going around the city pointlessly. "I don't even know the rules of poker. I just raised and raised the wager."

Harry stared at him. "That is cheating. _Felix Felicis_ is not allowed in competitions."

"Well, but the Muggles don't know that, do they? You're talking like you've never abused their innocence before."

Harry just shook his head.

"Well, of course not. You are Saint Potter." Malfoy's face contorted, but then he just sighed and leaned back, closing his eyes. "Some people duplicate Muggle money and exchange it back to galleons and thereby cheat the currency. Others hex the Muggle brokers, so they get mortgages for free. Why do you think most wizards and witches are wealthy, even with our small society? Economically it shouldn't be possible."

Harry stared at him. But Malfoy paid him no mind and just went on.

"That's what I never understood about your Weasleys. It would be so easy to just cheat the Muggles out of some of their money. They do the same damn thing themselves. The wealthy ones cheat the poor. A bigger house and some better clothes surely wouldn't have killed their inner _goodness_."

"That's – I thought you understood, that Muggles aren't lesser than us."

Malfoy looked down at his feet then reached over to a bottle of white wine standing in a bucket full of ice.

"I have – I never liked the idea of killing – in general. Or torture. It doesn't matter anymore now, anyway. This is about stealing, and I'm not only speaking of myself and the Slytherin pureblood community. Or whatever. _Most_ people with a wand do this. _Obliviator_ is literally a profession to cover up the worst of it. And in _my_ book, memory erasure is still morally closer to murder than stealing."

Malfoy simply drank large gulps straight from the bottle after shooting the stopper to the ceiling. Harry wasn't so sure if the _Felix_ would mix well with alcohol. But then Malfoy must have been drinking all evening.

"This is good wine," Malfoy said, and looked down at the label, then handed the bottle over to Harry.

Harry sighed. Whatever. It was late. He might as well drink a bit. Maybe Malfoy's company would improve that way. So what if he'd cheated some aristocrats out of their money.

"I meant it, by the way," Malfoy said, eyes still closed. "I regret many choices I made, and I want to – " He went quiet. "I still had some remaining _liquid luck_ , and tonight I just wanted to see where it would take me. No ill intentions at all. I'll give the money to fix up the Manor. I don't need it."

A sad smile was reflected in the windows. The city flew by outside. Harry didn't think Malfoy would remember much of his first ride in a car.

"What were you doing in the vault?" Harry asked.

Malfoy opened his eyes and turned to Harry. "Just – just destroying a few objects the Dark Lord gave us for safekeeping. They – they were dark – the kind of dark magic that eats away on itself and then becomes something twisted and uncontrolled. And I didn't like the idea of those cups sitting around in the vault for the foreseeable future. I tried to get a permit, you know? To dispose of them, but they wouldn't let me. _Felix_ decided that simply walking in would be a good idea. From then on, I improvised."

Harry noticed that his hands were clenched into his trousers, and his shoulders trembled slightly until something shook him, and he became very still. It was like Malfoy had put an abrupt stop to whatever he had been thinking.

All thoughts left Harry's mind when Malfoy raised a hand to push his hair from his face and smiled at him.

"It's cute, that you're stalking me again," he said and scooted closer. "What were your theories on what I was doing? I like having all your thoughts on me." Harry's mouth went dry. He didn't know how to react to this. He felt Malfoy's wine-heavy breath on his lips. Why hadn't he thought to sit opposite? With more distance.

Then Malfoy traced his scar with his fingertips. He still had that giddy feeling to him. A sort of childish happiness. It was all wrong. The Malfoy he knew sneered at him, insulted him. Why was he so dreamy now?

Harry felt like he had three puzzle pieces of Malfoy, but they were all from different pictures. Nothing fit together in his head.

Before Harry could do anything to distance himself, Malfoy leaned forward and pressed his lips to Harry's.

The kiss was wet and tasted of wine. Harry's lips were chapped, but Malfoy didn't seem to mind as he traced them with his tongue. He smelled minty. Hands pulled at Harry’s hair and pushed his head farther into the cushiony seat. And Harry opened his mouth to the questing tongue. It had been so long since his last kiss.

Then Malfoy pulled back and looked down at Harry from the top. He was smiling softly, and Harry felt something stir at the sight. Malfoy basically sat in his lap.

Then the car stopped at a red light, and reality came crashing into him. Harry swallowed and quickly untangled himself from Malfoy's arms and was out the door, forcing himself to not look back. He cast a Notice-Me-Not charm on himself and then apparated home to Grimmauld. He needed a reality check.

* * *

Two weeks later, Harry thought he had finally managed to push Malfoy's pink lips so far from his mind that they weren't a steady terror haunting his days. He'd actively prevented himself from picking up the map, tracing Malfoy's dot with his eyes, watching the little footsteps as they paced around his home.

Harry had no idea what he would want to say, anyway, should they 'accidentally' run into each other again. Malfoy had been drunk and high on Felix, he hadn't been a master of his senses.

"Mate," Ron called from the kitchen when Harry entered the apartment above Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. "Wanna come to try the cake?" Harry smiled and walked into the kitchen to find Ron working on a carrot-orange cake. It had the size and form of a pumpkin, and a gruesome face was carved into its surface, fake blood dripping from sharp vampire teeth.

"We only need to charm it now," George said. Wheezes had decided to expand their range again, and they would now also serve pastries. Especially cakes since Ron had discovered a talent of his own in developing delicious recipes, and had quite the hand for aesthetics.

"Do you think the colour is okay?" Ron asked uncertainly. "It might be a bit hard on the eyes. And the mouth and those teeth are damn scary."

"Not everyone is a chicken like you, Ronnykins. We will also make your pumpkin cakes say creepy things and laugh evilly. Fred and I taped parts of Voldemort's high-pitched laugh back in the day. They will be frightened for their lives." Ron shivered and looked at Harry for support. Harry shrugged – this was George's way of coping. It was okay if he got better at the expense of the magical community.

"It's Halloween," Harry said and boxed Ron's shoulder. Nothing great about it to begin with.

Ron sighed and let George do what he wanted to. There was still candy in the oven and many colourful doughs in a few bowls around the room.

"How's he doing?" Harry asked, with a glance at George. Ron met his eyes, and that was all Harry needed to know. Some wounds just healed very slowly.

"Halloween has kept us busy in the last two weeks. And there are still two to come. Yay... After that, we'll start on the Christmas supply. He loves working. Everything else will come back eventually." Harry nodded and looked down. They changed the topic.

An eagle owl arrived later that evening. Ron and George were downstairs preparing the shop for the next day, so nobody saw him open the window slowly. It felt a bit like letting a stranger with a drawn wand walk into his house.

This was Malfoy's owl.

Once Harry had taken the rolled-up letter from its leg, it took off without waiting for a response. Harry looked down at the white paper, unable to open it. Finally, when he heard Ron ramble back up the stairs, he ripped it, while looking away.

There were two things in the envelope. A small scrap of paper with a message, and a ticket for a one-way flight to Paris.

> _I'm going to hijack a plane. In case you want to come._
> 
> _\- DM_

* * *

Of course, if Malfoy hijacked planes it was in the middle of the goddamn night, so Harry arrived at the airport that evening at 9pm. The plane was supposed to take off at 11. He had not come to fly. He'd only packed his passport, to identify himself should it become necessary.

Heathrow wasn't a place Harry had ever been before. The Dursleys didn't like foreign things, so they had never entertained the thought of going abroad. Especially not if they had to take Harry – just abandoning him at home for a week was a line even they wouldn't cross.

Harry had to look twice before he was absolutely sure that was indeed Malfoy standing there in the cashmere pullover and the comfortable linen pants. He looked so utterly Muggle, even with the Dragonhide boots and the wand strapped to his forearm – Harry nearly overlooked him.

Malfoy was stepping from one foot to the other, sometimes swinging his leg while rolling a fancy suitcase in front of himself. A few girls were eyeing him, in the way they did when they thought someone was cute, but they didn't dare approach.

As soon as Malfoy saw Harry, he stopped his fiddling at once and stood very straight as he made his way forward.

"You came," he said. Harry only raised an eyebrow at the absolutely baffled tone.

"You said you were going to hijack a plane."

Malfoy nodded matter-of-factly. "Let's go. Check-in is over there."

He pulled on Harry's sleeve and then walked off into the direction of the gates. Before Harry could say that he didn't actually want to fly to Paris, Malfoy had already placed his bag on the baggage control and walked through the detectors.

He could do nothing but follow, right?

"What are you planning?" Harry asked after they had bypassed the controls. Harry still stared down at his ticket. Malfoy had somehow charmed the passport number, so it had fooled the Muggle controlling them.

"Do you even have a passport?"

Malfoy raised his eyebrows and shrugged. Obviously not. At this rate, why had he even bothered buying a ticket?

"There's something in Paris I have to take care of. I just thought you'd be interested in joining me. Not that you interpret it as me fleeing the country."

"But why use a plane? There are enough international Portkeys to Paris."

Malfoy shrugged again. "I've always wanted to know how these Muggle birds can fly. Then I read up on it, and it is brilliant. I'm channelling my inner Gryffindor at the moment to gain this experience. Trust in science, Potter."

When they boarded, Harry too felt his heartbeat strongly in his chest. This was his first time in an aircraft as well, and while he loved being in the air, here he was unable to influence what was happening.

"Some white wine, please," Malfoy told the stewardess when she came to them after take-off. Harry sat at the window, staring out. With his broom, he'd never been able to go this high before. The outside temperature would be too cold. Clouds looked much like cotton candy from up here, he decided. Not the grey matter they were from underneath.

"There," Malfoy said and pressed a cup full of wine into Harry's hands.

"You're drinking too much," Harry said but sipped on it anyway. "It's bad for the liver."

Malfoy tsked and clunked their cups together belatedly, turning Harry's head to look into his eyes. "This is a first, Potter. You need to take it seriously. Also, our kind has restoration brews. We can drink as much as we like. Just go see a healer regularly!"

With that, he downed his glass and got more. Harry shrugged. As long as he wasn't the one paying. To think of it, he might have exactly brought 20 pounds on this trip. If Malfoy decided to just leave him in Paris, he would have to stay there.

They were only in the air little more than one hour but because of the time difference it was 1:30 am by the time they stepped out of Paris-Charles-de-Gaulle.

It was warmer in Paris than in London, so Harry was okay in his wool jacket and a scarf.

"So, is there a limousine waiting for us again?" he asked. They both froze, and Harry nearly hit himself. Until now they'd both easily avoided mentioning the topic of Friday night two weeks ago.

"No," Malfoy said, clearing his throat. "We are taking the Metro to the Eiffel Tower." He confidently walked off – into the wrong direction – and Harry had to do the orientation for both of them. They had to run to catch the last train still leaving the airport for the city.

It was surreal seeing the lights of Paris for the first time, and Harry gazed out of the window. It was a bit awkward now that the limousine had come up.

When they had to change trains, Harry got them two more bottles of wine. Malfoy thought it was horribly sweet and cheap, but drank anyway.

"What do we even want at the Eiffel Tower?" Harry asked. "It is bloody closed by now." He couldn't help but smile at Malfoy, who was too drunk by now to tie his shoelaces standing up and had to sit down to do it.

"We're wizards, Potter. A closed door doesn't stop us."

Harry wanted to object, but sneaking up the Eiffel Tower at night didn't seem like a bad idea at all.

They unlocked all closed doors with _Alohomora_ while under Notice-Me-Not spells and silenced the door when it creaked.

"Let's take the stairs," Malfoy said. Harry looked up at the ascent.

"We might not make it all the way to the top." Those were a lot of stairs.

"I could bloody carry you up there," Malfoy snorted with an air of complete certainty. Harry squinted at him, then shrugged.

"Prove it," he said. It took Malfoy getting to his knees in front of him, offering up his back, to understand what he'd actually said. "No, no, no," he tried taking it back.

"Hop on, Potter, we still have plans tonight." Harry decided to just blame anything that happened tonight on his low alcohol tolerance and cast a lightweight charm on himself before mounting Malfoy's back.

Even then they only moved up the stairs slowly, Malfoy sometimes wobbling under him, sighing from exhaustion. They made it past the first level.

"You can just stop. Let me down."

"No," Malfoy gritted out and took step after step. "It's about the principle of the thing."

"Carrying me up Eiffel Tower?"

"Exactly!" Harry could not fathom what dumb principle that was. He could feel every sway of Malfoy's muscles moving under his legs. He again smelled the minty scent of his skin. His hair tickling his face. Harry noticed that Malfoy had changed his hairstyle quite a bit. It was now a bit longer and not full of hair gel. It suited him; looked very fluffy.

Harry played with the strands and finally rested his head on Malfoy's back.

He heard Malfoy catch his breath. But he was so determined that Harry didn't want to offer walking by himself again. When they reached the second deck, Malfoy nearly fell, as he went to the ground. Harry quickly stepped aside.

"I wasn't even heavy," he said in defence.

Malfoy stuck out his tongue in response and got back to his feet, still breathing heavily. But he looked very self-satisfied. Even in the darkness, Harry could see the pink flush in his cheeks. They already had a nice view from here, so for a while, they stood still to gaze down at the city lights below.

The elevator was still functioning, however, and soon they stepped out at the top. The city lights were amazing, even now at 2 or 3 or whatever time it was – it seemed so alive. Harry blinked when Malfoy managed to conjure them halfway passable chairs and a little desk with two glasses. Then he returned his formerly shrunken suitcase to its full size and pulled another bottle of wine from its depths.

"Did we come to Paris to drink?" Harry asked as he let himself fall into his chair. Malfoy just stood silently for many moments before he returned his eyes to Harry. He handed him a glass of wine.

"I used to spend all my holidays in France when I was younger. Mostly down at the Mediterranean. But also here in Paris. I don't – " he exhaled. "I have a strong need to say goodbye to things at the moment. And I needed to come here to say goodbye to family holidays and the Malfoy ancestry."

He cleared his throat and sat down next to Harry, sipping his wine.

"Does it help? Saying goodbye," Harry asked.

"Yes. With the two cups in the vault, I said goodbye to the time with the Dark Lord and all involved. I sadly cannot burn the Dark Mark from my skin." Harry saw him visibly swallow. "With the manor, I tried to get rid of the craving for my father's approval. In the beginning, I was in a headspace where I just wanted to burn it to the ground, but I would have regretted that. Like this, it might do some good. And it still represents the family history I used to be so proud of. But now all that pride is something dirty and twisted, and I hope that there might be a time in my life when I can get some of it back."

Malfoy leaned back and turned to Harry. "It's what made me feel disgusted with myself for the first time. This thought that I took that from people like Granger. That I told them their heritage was dirty – worth nothing. It's only since I started feeling that about myself, that I noticed how despicable it is to pull the rug from under someone's feet. That, of course, doesn't make what I did better – but, well."

He coughed and turned away.

"Anyways, saying goodbye is a clean break. It allows me to say that while the past is a part of my life, of me...it doesn't have to be who I am anymore. I can move forward in a different direction. Be a different person."

Harry swirled his wine, staring up at the sky. There were no stars, the tower and the rest of the city shining too brightly. But the many colours of the projectors made for a different kind of beauty.

Maybe Harry should do that too. Actively cut out the parts of his life that hurt him, and no longer simply ignore them.

They sat there in silence for a while, until Malfoy pulled Harry to his feet and stepped closer.

"I – " he said then looked at their clasped hands. Both of them swayed a bit on their feet.

"We still need to do one touristy thing," Malfoy said. "Otherwise this Eiffel Tower visit isn't complete." Harry met his eyes as a hand pulled him closer at his waist. He licked his lips before Malfoy bent his head and pressed their mouths together.

This kiss was different from the first. Mostly because it didn't take Harry as off guard. Possibly because this time his drunken state allowed him to not question why he raised his hands and buried them in Malfoy's hair, pulling him lower. Why he met the questing tongue with his own and explored the hot mouth he was offered.

He just let himself feel the bliss of a good kiss, of awakening desire, and the fast beating of his heart.

* * *

"So are we getting on a plane home in the morning?" Harry asked as they walked through Paris' city centre sometime later in the night. There were still people around swapping clubs or entering a new pub.

"No, Harry," Malfoy said matter-of-factly, and Harry grinned, enjoying the sound of his name in Malfoy's voice. It had a different tone than 'Potter' did. They had their arms hooked, and Harry held a bottle of champagne in the other. Mixing alcohol most likely wasn't the best idea at this point, but neither of them had much common sense left. They couldn't really walk straight any more, or the street was just awfully wobbly.

"We're not taking a plane. They are awful for the environment, you know? All that pollution. We're taking a Portkey back."

Harry already knew it was going to make him throw up if it was leaving within the next twelve hours. He should really stop drinking soon. He was used to Butterbeer and maybe a few shots of Firewhiskey. Nothing more.

Suddenly it started raining, and not in the drizzly way he was used to but more like full buckets being emptied onto their heads. They were both wet to their bones within seconds.

"Oh, let's try this one," Malfoy said and pulled Harry into a pub with the sign: _Karaoke_. Harry groaned. Inside it was loud, a disco ball hung from the ceiling, and people were dancing to 80s music. Malfoy looked around at the people like he was seeing humans for the first time, but then that was his reaction to most Muggle things.

"You cannot bring that in here," someone said. Harry turned when something tucked on his hand, and he met the eyes of a large man, holding onto his champagne.

"Why not?" Harry asked.

"No drinks from outside! And how drunk are the two of you?" Before Harry could react, Malfoy had pulled out his wand and confunded the man.

"No can do, Muggle Hagrid," he said and pulled Harry through the masses, into a secluded room where a few people were singing into a microphone. Malfoy vibrated as he waited his turn, then he giddily walked over to the DJ, who drew up his eyebrows but shrugged. Harry wanted to defend against it, but Malfoy pulled him all the way to the stage.

Harry squirmed under the attention they received. Quickly he sipped more of the champagne – even though it honestly didn't even taste all that good.

But then Malfoy took the microphone. Harry nearly bit his tongue smiling when Malfoy started singing in a deepened voice.

> _I believe in miracles_
> 
> _Where're you from_
> 
> _You sexy thing, sexy thing you_

Harry saw a few women around them raise their hands to their mouth, smiling. Then they started dancing. Malfoy had quite a good voice, though he slurred a few words.

> _Where did you come from, baby_
> 
> _How did you know, I needed you_

Harry just swayed with the music, and in the end, he and Malfoy sang the lyrics together. Dancing with the other people in the room.

Harry couldn't remember when he'd last had this much fun. Maybe in Sixth Year at a Quidditch game? Anyway, he wasn't giving this up any time soon.

They stayed in the bar for the rest of the night. Malfoy talked about speakers and Muggle _Sonorous_ and the disco ball. And how he'd wanted to read about soundwaves from the Muggle perspective. And they couldn't help but grin at each other.

The next morning when the bar closed down, Malfoy changed into different clothes in the loo – because, in comparison to Harry, he'd come prepared. When he returned, he simply handed Harry a sobriety and a hangover potion, and then they portkeyed back home.

* * *

"Kreacher," Harry called into the dark of Grimmauld on Sunday. "I want to talk to you about something."

"Yes, Master Harry," Kreacher said, as he showed up with a pop. "What can I be doing for you?"

Harry had revised how to say this the best way. But it still came out blandly in his opinion.

"I will be moving to Andromeda for the next few months," he said and grimaced as Kreacher's face fell. "No, it won't be forever. I just struggle living by myself at the moment."

"I am understanding, Master Harry." Kreacher's ears still hung low, and Harry wrung his hands.

"I would like to move back sometime in the future, but I think for me to feel comfortable here, I will have to bring in a few specialists who will change this house significantly. I just wanted to ask you whether that would be okay with you. Everything you want to keep, you can have. But there are just things which will have to go." He thought about those house-elf heads. And a few walls.

When he found Kreacher halfway consoled and agreeable to the new status quo, Harry apparated to move his things into Tonks Cottage.

"It's lovely to have you here, Harry. Even if it isn't for long. Nymphadora and I really got on each other's nerves over long periods. But it will be good for Teddy to have you here." She stood in the door to Tonks’ room, which was now Harry's, and looked at him unpacking.

"I think it will be good for both of us," Harry said and smiled down at his godson lying on his play blanket. He would take little steps. Decluttering his life – like Malfoy. It made him feel hopeful.

The next thing Harry tackled was his job – and it was only Monday.

"I want to be assigned less war-related work for the near future, Sir," Harry said after he'd entered Roberts' office. Roberts didn't say much for a long time, just leaned back in his office chair and looked at Harry.

"How come, Potter?" he said finally.

"I'm very grateful to the Aurors and the responsibility you've trusted me with, even though I never finished my Hogwarts education. But I've noticed recently that it has taken a toll on my mental health. I wish to work for this division for a long time. I certainly want to return to Dark Arts related cases at some point. But I need to step back for a while, Sir."

Roberts clasped his hands and then nodded with a serious face.

"You are right, Potter. If you are interested – there are a few mind healers who are assigned to our division. I'm sure it would be possible to set up a few dates." Harry stared at his hands. Uncle Vernon had always said that only the crazy went to see a psychotherapist. Still, Harry had been thinking about it ever since Hermione told him about her own experience.

"I'd like that," he said finally and smiled wryly at Roberts. It was nice: Change.

That night Harry sat in his new bedroom, staring out into a different street and wrote a letter to Malfoy – no, Draco. He was very unsure whether Draco even wanted to know what Harry was doing about sorting out his life. But well.

> _Draco_
> 
> _Thank you for the tip about saying goodbye to things. I think I might have needed a few goodbyes in my life as well. I really liked our trip to Paris. If you have other destinations you want to visit, I'm always up for it._
> 
> _Harry_

After he sent it, he lay awake for a long time, thinking about whether that had been a risky letter or not. And why those words felt so odd. His life was weird right now. He jumped out of his bed and opened the window as soon as Draco's owl arrived a little later.

> _~~Potter~~ _ _Harry_
> 
> _We are doing first names now then? I'll try my best._
> 
> _I'm going to jump out of a plane on Friday. It has become 'the day' of the week, it seems. You're welcome to join me._
> 
> _Draco_

Harry couldn't help the grin which spread on his face. Somehow he'd started to appreciate these cliff-hangers in his life. Jump out of a plane – why not?

* * *

"Are you serious?" Harry asked when they met up the following Friday. They were on their way up into the sky in a tiny plane. Skydiving, the Muggles called this.

Draco looked reasonably green in the face, clutching his seat tightly and throwing secret but very obvious glances to their respective partners. The latter were screaming at each other over the roaring machine. They'd most likely done this a million times – and didn't have a general mistrust towards anything non-magical.

"I'm trying to grow myself an inner Gryffindor, Potter. Like a plant in my mind, which I water with these ridiculous experiences. Ravenclaw and Slytherin have already grown into massive trees, with deep roots. I'm trying my utmost to not have this little Gryffindor shoot die. So shut up. I very much prefer working hard over here without you criticising me. Thank you ever so."

Harry shook his head and grinned.

"What about your inner Hufflepuff?" he asked.

"That one dies the moment it enters my soil. I'm not kind or naïve – there is no environment for it to grow."

Harry just snorted. Everyone had a bit of Hufflepuff – it wasn't something you could defend against. Especially not when you considered yourself to be 'working hard'.

When they reached the jump height, they were both tied to their secondary jumpers. Harry could see Draco's legs wobbling. Harry himself felt oddly excited now that they were at the top. He'd only heard that freefall was supposed to be an exhilarating experience.

And it looked like it would be. The fast beating of his heart, the clear sky and cottony clouds. The beautiful sun beginning the process of turning the sky red. It was a gorgeous view.

"So what are you saying goodbye to today?" Harry asked.

"Harry, I –"

"Hmm?" Harry looked at Draco, who was biting on his lower lip.

"I – it's fear. Today I say goodbye to crippling fear. Don't need that shit in my life anymore!"

Harry nodded and turned to the opened door.

"To a life with only healthy doses of fear," he said. And when they jumped, they screamed. And Harry didn't know whether he imagined it, but he heard his name over the loud blasting of the wind in his ears.

* * *

"So mate, you better keep Saturday free," Ron told him as Harry was over for dinner on Wednesday.

"What am I supposed to do?" Harry asked. He planned to visit his parents in the morning of the 31st, but after that he was free. He didn't really plan on spending the day alone.

"I don't know." Ron bit into his gigantic sandwich and leaned back. "You had plans last Friday and wouldn't even tell me what you were doing. The Saturday before that I came over, and Kreacher told me you were sleeping at like 2pm."

Harry heard a figurative gong go off in his head. This was the moment to confess his odd encounters with Draco. The thing was, Harry had no idea where to even start that talk.

It would be somewhat like, 'Mate, Malfoy and I have bonded over saying goodbye to random stuff in our lives and an extensive amount of wine.'

"I was meeting a friend," Harry said instead. Ron raised a single eyebrow and got up to make himself another sandwich.

"You have other friends than me? Friends you don't name?" he asked, chopping some salad. "Are you going to be more specific? Or am I right in my assumption that you were meeting some chick?"

Harry spit out his drink.

Now, this was Ron putting his and Draco's encounters into the weird context of a date. Harry wasn't sure he was comfortable with that. It only made him remember the two kisses more – and how he had so much fun with this new Draco. His antics were so utterly ridiculous.

"Invite her, okay?" Ron said. "Otherwise you will never believe that I can look past the fact that you ditched my little sister. It's been four months. I just – you seem a bit happier recently. And you're seeing that mind healer now. You no longer sleep in your office. And if that is because of someone in particular – don't be afraid that I will reject them, okay?"

Harry nodded primly but didn't look up to meet Ron's eyes.

"Oh, and if you dare show up in your Auror uniform and call it a costume – I’ll kill you!"

Harry snorted but agreed anyway.

That evening he sat at his desk and stared down at the blank paper. He'd written a few drafts of this already, and it just wasn't getting any better.

> _I want you to come to Wheezes' Halloween Party. You're not allowed to decline because you are responsible for both of our costumes._
> 
> _Harry_

Harry wasn't good at ambiguity – but he was trying his best.

When he'd sent it away, he looked at the photograph of his parents. He sometimes wondered what they would say to all these new developments in his life. He'd talked extensively at Teddy whose only reply had been a hand on the cheek and drool on his shoulder.

Harry wasn't sure what to make of that.

* * *

He awoke early on the 31st of October and grabbed his invisibility cloak. He knew there would be some paparazzi lurking in Godric's Hollow, and he didn't want any pictures of this in the Prophet.

When Harry arrived at the grave, he opened up a can of beer and sat down on the grass in front of it. This wasn't his first time here – but the first time on the day they died. Seventeen years – a lifetime.

It was odd to imagine that his parents would have gotten married at his age. That they would have a child at twenty.

He didn't really want to think about the time when he would be older than they had been when they died. In his head, they had always been so grown up. Now he realised for the first time that his brain was altering the picture of them.

"I sometimes want to ask you whether life is always this hard?" Harry whispered at their stones gazing up at them through the veil of his cloak. "It seemed simple in school. There was always some sort of goal, something I had to do to survive. And now with all that gone, I just feel a bit lost. Like after an adrenaline rush, when you slowly come back down and feel off balance."

Harry took a sip of his beer and gazed at the sun, which still stood very low in the sky.

"I could really use a few tips right now. I feel like this day will end in shambles. _Me_ bringing Draco Malfoy to a Weasley event. Especially because I don't even know where I stand with him. Life really used to be so simple. But how do you ask someone what their intentions are? Why did he kiss me? Does it mean he's interested in a relationship? Do I even want a relationship right now?"

Harry sighed and drank more beer, feeling only slightly ridiculous and glad that in actuality nobody could hear him. This day could only be handled slightly drunk.

"And what if Ron reacts negatively? This will end in a big dramatic fallout, which will be splashed all over the Daily Prophet tomorrow."

It helped to just say all these words, even though he didn't get a response.

Draco had written him a letter yesterday. He had their costumes figured out and would come to pick up Harry in the evening. And whether Harry was really sure that they should go to the Halloween party together?

Harry was not sure, but he said yes anyway.

He listened anxiously for any Floo flaring when back at Tonks Cottage. Then the doorbell rang. Before Harry could get to his feet, Andromeda had already opened the door. Harry had sort of informed her that someone would come before they left for the party, but not who.

The resulting silence told him that he should have.

"Draco," he heard Andromeda say. "What a surprise."

"I'm so sorry, Mrs Tonks. Hasn't Harry told you I was coming to pick him up?"

"Oh, he has – " there was a pause. "Please come inside. That is an interesting costume."

Harry made his way into the hallway, only to stop short. Then something gleeful bubbled up in his stomach.

"You have one of those for me as well?" he asked.

"Of course, Potter." Draco threw a second Muggle police uniform at him, as he hovered awkwardly in the door. Andromeda ushered him inside. Before Harry could ask him to come up to his room, she had already pulled him into the kitchen with a command to Harry that he should go change.

Harry sent Draco an apologetic glance as he made his way upstairs. He quickly stripped down and put on the uniform. This would be a great joke on Ron.

When Harry got back down, he paused in the hallway to listen to the conversation.

"Your apology is accepted, Draco. Although you should know that actions speak louder than words. I've heard from your mother that you've been trying to change – and I think we might be able to build an amicable relationship based on that."

"Thank you, Mrs Tonks," Draco said muffled.

"Call me Andromeda. I'm still your aunt if you want me to be." At that, Harry stepped into the room and found Draco playing with Teddy on the floor, while Andromeda sat at the table watching them. Teddy was sporting Draco's white-blond hair and a pointy chin.

Draco returned Teddy's dummy to him – Teddy would just randomly hand it to people – and got to his feet with a cough.

"Let's go then," Harry said and forced a smile at Andromeda before they exited the house. He didn't know which of them looked less excited at the idea.

"So are we apparating?" Harry asked. He had drunk two beers, but apparating should still be manageable without danger.

"No." At that Draco pulled something from his pocket and a car jumped to life next to them. _A cop car._ Harry turned to Draco, exasperated.

"What?" Draco said defensively. "This is a complete costume."

"How did you even get all this?" he asked. Draco shrugged, which most likely meant he'd stolen it.

"Whatever," Harry said. "We'll just return it when we don't need it anymore. How are we supposed to get there, though? Neither of us can _drive_ a car."

"Well, the Knight Bus cannot drive either, and they're still in business. I put some of the same enchantments on this car. It can jump and stretch as well. Get in."

Harry tried very hard not to feel the same way he had when trusting his life to an aeroplane and a parachute.

"Your Gryffindor plant is a goddamn tree too," he mumbled under his breath as he got in on the passenger side.

The ride went precisely as those in the Knight Bus did. It was a mix of apparating from street to street, landing on the wrong lane and then stretching to avoid other cars. When they finally arrived in front of the Leaky Cauldron, both Harry and Draco were sweaty and late.

"We are not doing that again," Harry said. "This was a once in a lifetime sort of thing. No inner Gryffindor is worth this insanity. I learned in Second Year that driving enchanted cars ends badly."

Draco laughed in response. "I’m starting to believe that all the Muggles are Gryffindors. I like planes and trains. But cars." He shook himself.

"Well." They sat in the car, neither inclined to go in. From the Leaky Cauldron, they would be out in the open – and there would be no way back. It would undoubtedly not go well.

"Harry –" Draco said and then fell silent.

"Yes?"

"Let's – let's get this over with." Draco threw the door closed after stepping outside. Harry noticed that he’d left the key on the seat and had parked the car in a space where parking wasn't allowed. The cops would get their vehicle back soon enough.

Harry sighed one last time and followed him. He pulled his uniform hat further over his face as they entered. The Leaky Cauldron was alive, packed with all the regulars. They, however, fell quiet when Harry and Draco stepped through. Their clothing was very noticeable. But it wasn't only that.

A former Death Eater, and Harry Potter – together, in Muggle uniforms.

Nobody dared to say a word, but as soon as they stepped into Diagon Alley, the noise level in the pub spiked. They would be the talk of the town now.

Diagon Alley itself was nicely decorated with both Pagan symbols for Samhain and the scary pumpkins for Halloween. Harry walked much faster than he usually would.

Wheezes was by far the most impressively decorated house. A whole army of pumpkins was lined up behind the shop windows, and there were illusion spells in place that made the house seem to stand in the centre of thick fog. It was already packed with people, as they arrived fashionably late. Harry was greeted with loud yells, a few people coming over to clap him on the shoulder.

"I thought you weren't coming anymore, Harry," Dean said, and Harry blinked at him for a few moments.

"Shouldn't you be at Hogwarts?" he asked finally.

"You had your head in the sand, didn't you? Everyone of age is allowed to leave as long as we ask for permission. We all came to the party." Harry looked around to find more and more of his former classmates among the crowd.

"Is Ginny here?" Harry asked.

"No, she stayed behind." Dean looked at Harry in a way which made it evident that him being here was the reason why.

"Hey, isn't that Malfoy?" Dean asked quietly and looked over Harry's shoulder to Draco who still stood outside, and had not yet stepped over the threshold. He was looking at the ground, holding onto the door with a hand, but the white-blond hair was unmistakable even through the foggy air.

"Hey – " Dean was about to go over when Harry grabbed his arm.

"He's with me, alright?"

"With you?" Ron asked, and Harry turned to his friend, who had a ridiculous costume of what seemed to be a fisherman with a cowboy hat. He was holding two glasses in his hands.

"Well," Harry said, coughing again. "You said to bring who I'd been meeting with on the weekends, so I did. He's okay – not that much of a git any longer. Just give him some wine."

Ron stared at him open-mouthed and looked from Harry to Draco and back again, unable to get a sentence straight.

"When I said that, mate, this wasn't what I expected," he said finally and pressed the glass into Harry's hand.

There was noise to his right and Harry turned his head.

"What does _he_ want, goddamnit. And what the hell is that outfit?" someone hollered. Harry rolled his eyes as Smith made his way from the back of the shop over to them.

"It's Muggle Aurors, Smith," Harry said, dryly. Draco had finally lifted his head, but his face was without emotions. Harry was sure he was about to sneer, and this would escalate unpleasantly.

"Potter. Why the fuck are you wearing that as well? Did the two of you come in a partner costume? Are you two chums now? Is he paying you – though, in what currency?" He leered at them nastily and wobbled on his feet.

Draco sneered at that, then looked at Harry. "I – I'll leave you to it then, Potter,” he said. “Since your letter’s requirements are fulfilled." His lips twitched like he tried a smile but gave up halfway. Without even stepping into the shop, Draco turned around and walked off down the street.

"Well, that was weird," Smith said. Harry would have liked to smash his fist into his face.

"Yeah, Harry," Ron said. "This can't be about our conversation the other day, right?"

Harry sighed. Everyone here was drunk already, and Harry didn't want to deal with this right now. He also needed to go after Draco.

"Listen, Ron. Yes, it is. And you won't understand it right now. I'll come over sometime tomorrow, and we'll talk, okay? Please enjoy your party. I’m sorry."

Ron grabbed his arm. Harry noticed that many of the present people still eyed him in interest. And Dean was standing right there next to them.

"This is important to me," Harry said.

"Fine," Ron said, "tomorrow. But you better tell a story that makes some goddamn sense, alright?" With that, he let Harry go.

When Harry stepped out on Diagon Alley, Draco was nowhere in sight. His only guess was that he had either disapparated or gone back to the car. When Harry entered the Leaky, he walked straight over to Tom.

"Have you seen Malfoy?" he asked.

"He Floo-ed to Hogsmeade," Tom grunted. Harry grabbed some Floo powder and threw it into the fire so quickly that he didn’t even have time to mentally prepare for the nausea.

Quickly he exited the Hog's Head and looked around. Just able to see Draco ahead, walking up the street to Hogwarts. Harry would have liked to apparate after him, but Hogwarts' wards extended all the way to Hogsmeade now. So Harry sprinted after him.

Instead of going to the school, however, Draco made his way over to the Quidditch pitch. He turned back when he heard Harry's footsteps, and they just stood there in silence for a while, staring at the green lawn of the pitch. Draco's face was still expressionless – like whoever he'd been in the last weeks, had been erased from his memory.

"They didn't mean that," Harry said. Draco snorted.

"They sure did, Potter," he said.

"We've been over this, Draco. Please – please don't try to reverse time and pretend we never had fun together."

Draco's face contorted at that, and he pressed his lips together.

"What are you trying to say goodbye to today?" Harry asked, stepping up to stand next to him, mapping each expression on Draco’s face.

"I don't always have an ulterior motive, Potter ... Harry."

"It’s okay that you have your little plans. Come on. Tell me. You didn't come to Hogwarts at random." Draco was biting his pink lips, his eyes downcast, trembling slightly from the cold. He was fiddling with his wand. Then he inhaled deeply, meeting Harry's eyes.

"My idiotic teenage crush on you." Draco sucked in air and chuckled. "But I just can't seem to do it properly. My weird fascination for you was always dirty, and sometimes hopeless and pathetic." He swallowed, and Harry didn't dare breathe. "So I thought that maybe just telling you, would help let it go. I tried it in Paris. And I tried while falling from the sky. And I tried in a cop car, but I just can't get it right. Can't let it go. So I just thought of telling the pitch instead, because it housed so many of my fantasies."

Draco looked back at the floor, but Harry couldn't stop staring at him. He stepped closer and put his arms around Draco's waist, pulling him in. Harry knew he was rash, and that he never thought things through – but he wanted this. He wanted Draco.

"Please say those goodbyes to your crush," he said quietly. "I want something else. Something more real and substantial."

With a steady motion, he lifted his hands and cupped Draco's face. He pushed himself to the tips of his toes, so their breath mingled.

"Do you say 'welcome' to things too? To accept them into your future."

"Yes," Draco whispered against his lips, “I mean, I should.” His eyes were wide and dazed. So Harry closed the last remaining distance and pressed their lips together. Draco bent down more and twisted his hands into the fabric of Harry's uniform. He pulled him closer, so there was no space remaining between them any longer.

"What about the Weasel?" Draco asked.

"Ron will come around. He's also a person of actions above words. You just need to wear him down. We can all do babysitting Teddy together – he's very good at moderating. And very distracting." Draco's arms wound themselves around Harry, squeezed him almost painfully tight.

"Yes," he said, breathing in Harry's hair. "Yes. I would like that." And he bent down again and kissed Harry with complete disregard to air.

But Harry had learned one thing. This was what a new beginning tasted like.

**Author's Note:**

> The quoted lyrics are from You Sexy Thing by Hot Chocolate
> 
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